Without Arms and Armour
by a-wonderful-afterlife
Summary: NEW SUMMARY : Merlin gets kidnapped and replaced by a look alike while on a quest with Arthur and the knights. Lost in a strange land surrounded by enemies both new and old, will our favourite warlock be able to get back to his friends without them noticing his absence? Or do the fates have something else in mind?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, so despite all the research I did on The Holy Grail I decided to just go by ear, what I already know, and a lot of creative licence. Therefore, while this story is based upon everything that's happened so far in Merlin it is an AU world and the legends will be twisted and changed from those that you know.

WARNINGS:  
_-Pre-story character death!_ (I am so sorry for this, Gwen is really one of my favourite characters, but this story would never have worked if she was around. Plus, you know. DRAMA!)  
_-Language and Violence!_ (There won't be any extreme language or much swearing at all, but I try to keep my stories 'realistic', and that goes for violence, blood and gore as well)  
_-Unbeta'd!_ (The first three chapters are unBeta'd. TheImpossiblePen is my Beta for chapter 4 onwards)  
_-Drama!_ (Seriously, I'm completely crap at writing comedy, but fairly good at angst and drama (and fight scenes!) Gwaine would probably kill me for doing him an injustice)

DISCLAIMER: Credits for Merlin go to its respective writers, producers, actors and the BBC. It's set two years after Season 4 with only one plot change that will be described in this chapter.

And that's the longest A/N I'll ever write. I hate the things :( Apologies for the length, and yes this has been reuploaded for a _third _time.  
now ON TO THE STORY!  
(P.S this is a sort of prologue - the chapters to come will be much, much longer)

* * *

Chapter 1

Red cloaks billowed out impressively behind all but one of the riders as the small entourage left the gates of Camelot and headed into the surrounding woods. It was a common occurrence to see the unarmed manservant riding at the front of the knights, at their King's side, and none gave them a second glance except to wonder what quest they were setting out on this time.

Two years had passed since the citadel of Camelot had been overtaken by the cruel witch Morgana, the day King Arthur had pulled his sword from the stone, and the day that the King's love, Guinevere, had died by Morgana's hand. It had been a day of mourning as the hope had been drowned in the attack and the loss of the woman that should have been Queen. Arthur had spent several months on a decline having lost his hope in a future without his Queen, but a certain group of knights and one manservant had prised him from the depths of despair and set him on his path to becoming a great King once more.

Peace had begun to rein over the lands as more alliances were made with the surrounding kingdoms. King Arthur fast became known as one of the fairest, kindest, most loyal and merciful of any King Camelot had ever seen. All those that met him saw the strength of the fire in his eyes and his determination to protect every last one of his people and respected him for it.

At least, _most _of them did.

There were certain people, Morgana not being the last of which, that would have celebrated the day Arthur was struck down from his throne and Camelot's friendships with the other kingdoms not just severed, but destroyed. They would wish to throw the kingdom into a war that would devastate it beyond repair and break its reputation as one of the best kingdoms in all of Albion.

"So where are we off to this time?" Merlin asked cheerily as he rode beside his King, his friend. Despite being the King's loyal manservant and rarely leaving the man's side, Merlin wasn't completely all-knowing in what went through Arthur's head. Not to mention that the meeting concerning their current outing had been a private one that was only attended by the King and the royal court. Not even Merlin, Gaius or any of Arthur's knights had been allowed to enter the council chambers. _None_ of them knew where they were headed.

Arthur remained quiet, however. Not entirely bothered by his master's silence, Merlin carried on speaking.

"I mean, not even _Leon_ knows where we're going, and by now I can tell when he's lying. Is it another one of those _'I-can't-tell-you-because-I'd-be-forced-to-kill-you-if-I-did'_ things again? Because if it is, I totally understand, except, you know – I almost died last time we went on one of those. I'd appreciate you at least giving me a clue as to how dangerous this trip is going to be. You never even told any of us how long we're going to be away from Camelot. You're the K_ing_, Arthur, you shouldn't away from the city for too long. What if Morgana tries to take the throne again-" he cut across what Arthur was about to say to _that_ with a quick shake of his head, "-Don't give me that look. She's still alive, I know she is. ...I can feel it." Merlin trailed off in thought, the atmosphere turning sombre at the loss of the manservant's smile from before.

Normally, Arthur would have laughed and brushed off the fact that Merlin had just spouted one of his 'sixth sense' warnings again, but if the past seven years had taught him anything, it was that Merlin's gut-feelings were as accurate as his own. Meaning they turned out right ninety-nine percent of the time, and the rest of the time they weren't entirely fruitless worries, either.

"It's not that I can't tell you," Arthur started at length, drawing Merlin's attention again and feeling the curiosity in those startlingly blue eyes. "But that _I_ don't know exactly where we're going, either."

**Word count: 686**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So, I managed to get this written the day after the first chapter. I'll continue the story for a bit longer (I currently have three and a half chapters finished), but I'm really relying on your reviews as to how long this story is and whether I actually finish it or not. I apologise profusely for the AN length last chapter, hopefully this makes up for it!

DISCLAIMER: Credits for Merlin go to its creators and the BBC. Very little of the Holy Grail legend I'm using is from the actual legend.

* * *

Chapter 2

"It's not that I can't tell you," Arthur started at length, drawing Merlin's attention again and feeling the curiosity in those startlingly blue eyes. "But that _I_ don't know where we're going, either."

"You ... don't know where we're going?" Merlin repeated slowly, brow furrowed in confusion as he stared incredulously at his King.

Arthur glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, rolling his eyes and sighing in exasperation at the look on his manservant's face. "Yes, Merlin, I have ab-so-_lutely_ no idea where in God's name we're going," he confirmed, serious but for the shadow of a smile on his face. It would have been funny to see the reactions of his friends when they found, but it was a serious situation that demanded much of his attention as they rode along a lesser-used path through the forest. "All I know is that we need to head south, past Mercia, and even past The Perilous Lands."

Merlin stared at Arthur in disbelief. He'd known the royal was an idiot before now, but this took his idiocy to new heights. "So... What are we looking for?" he finally asked. If they had no heading but were still going out, then there must be _some _kind of objective.

"The Holy Grail," Arthur replied seamlessly, not taking his eyes off the dirt road in front of him. He was hyper-aware of his surroundings. They had rode through this part of the forest many times without being set upon by bandits or the like, but it did not mean they wouldn't be attacked this time. As such, he was aware of the sudden change in his servant's disposition despite not being able to physically see it.

"What?" Merlin shouted, alarmed. He had been shocked enough to have almost lost his hold on his horse's reins, choking on his surprise for a few moments before speaking.

The other knights – who had not been able to hear their comrades' conversation over the beating of the horses' hooves on the ground, the forest around them and their concentration on being alert for an attack – looked alarmed at Merlin's sudden outburst. They exchanging glances and tightening their formation to see if at least one of them could overhear something.

Arthur sighed wearily and shook his head. "Later. I'd planned on telling you all once we'd stopped to rest for the night. It would be too much effort to have to answer the same questions twice."

Merlin appeared to be at bursting point and almost demanded immediate answers, but Arthur had used that tone that ended a conversation. The same tone Merlin knew meant Arthur would hold to his decision, even against his friends.

They continued on their journey in relative quiet, only Gwaine and Merlin keeping up the stream of incessant chatter – sometimes permeated by the input of another knight, or the laughter of the others – that allowed everyone to relax slightly, unworried. Arthur (who had remained silent save the occasional quiet chuckle at his manservant's and knights' antics) would tell them what was going on in due time, when he was ready to. Until then, they would trust that he was doing what he thought best for them, and the kingdom.

~#~

Night had almost fallen and everyone was sat around the fire, talking together and laughing as Merlin cooked a stew from the two rabbits Leon and Gwaine had caught a little earlier.

"So, come on, spill it. Where are we going?" Elyan asked Arthur as the conversations seemed to dwindle between them.

Arthur looked up from where he had been brooding, staring into the fire and occasionally looking between each of his trusted knights. Their attention was immediately capture by Elyan's long-awaited question, and five pairs of eyes watched Arthur over the flickering light of the fire.

"We're going to find the Holy Grail," he replied, sitting up a little straighter as he slid from being 'Brooding-Arthur' to 'Leader-Arthur.' Many would mistake the second stance as the one he took when he acted as King, the person he was whilst in public at Camelot and around other delegates, but the five men currently sat with him could see that the two roles were different. This Arthur treated them like the friends they were, would still allow the taunting and the jibes, and was much more heart-felt even when speaking to his manservant, instead of being the aloof King that, while treating them as equals, still had to treat a servant as a servant and would never say please or thank you to one. This Arthur was the one they followed unwaveringly into the mouth of Hell itself.

"But I thought the Grail had been lost, many centuries ago?" Leon frowned in confusion, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. Merlin tore his gaze from his King as Leon spoke, turning his attention back to the cooking pot. He stirred the stew whilst listening half-heartedly to the conversation.

"It was, yes. But there are rumours that it has been found and is being kept in a land to the south of Mercia," Arthur replied, having fully expected the question. In fact, he'd been thinking about this conversation all day and had come up with so many questions and the best answers for each. It was his reason for being so unnaturally quiet.

"...It's powerful, isn't it?" Percival asked at length. "That's why only the council members were at the meeting and why you didn't tell us before we left."

Arthur nodded, "No one can find out that we are going after it. The courtiers may have sworn their loyalty, but I do not trust them. At least this way, I know who to suspect if anyone finds out about our mission."

The knights all smiled. Arthur trusted them implicitly, even after Elyan's possession at the hands of the Druid boy two years previous. His distrust of the courtiers was understood without explanation however and the thought of Agravaine tore at Arthur's heart.

Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder, spooking Arthur from his dark thoughts as Gwaine wrapped an arm round his shoulders and squeezed lightly, showing his support. "It'll be fine, Arthur. You know who you _can_ trust, and that's all that matters," Gwaine grinned widely, letting go of Arthur and picking up his dish as Merlin began to get to his feet. The stew was done.

Arthur smiled and nodded his thanks for the reassurance, knowing that his friend was right as each of the other four men looked to him with an honest smile for at least a moment, before Merlin was swamped by their good-natured demands for food.

"So, you didn't _really_ answer my question, Arthur. Where are we going? Other than south past Mercia?" Gwaine pressed as they ate.

"It's a place known as Tam's Kingdom," Arthur conceded. "I've never been there myself, but it's about a week's easy riding from Camelot, or four days if we ride hard," he clarified.

"A week just to get there? I thought that this whole trip was going to take a week or so at the longest," Leon mused.

"I told the Court to spread the word that I'd be gone for almost a month to speak with other delegates in a far Kingdom. It's partially true," Arthur explained with a shrug. Almost as if to say 'I can't do anything about it.'

"Who did you leave in charge for that long?" Gwaine asked, confused. All the people Arthur might trust alone with such a job were sat around the fire before them.

"I called in a favour from a few friends within the kingdom. They joined the court yesterday and any matters I would deal with are to be agreed upon by vote. No decisions are to be passed if less than eight of the ten agree. Or, so I told them. You know what a few of them are like." Arthur shook his head in frustration. "We will just have to trust that Camelot is still standing when we get back. I couldn't miss out on this quest," he added, half solemn and serious, half joking. They all knew the chances of Camelot _not_ being at rights when they returned...

"This Grail. Percival mentioned that it was powerful. Just how powerful is it, exactly?" Leon enquired. He wondered if they were going after it because despite sounding harmless it may well be a possible weapon that could be used against Camelot in the future (just as the Cup of Life had _looked_ harmless enough) and Arthur wanted to remove that threat as much as possible, or if it was the fame that would come with capturing a once-lost piece of lore that Arthur was after; fame that would raise the esteem of their King and kingdom. The others by now knew the way Leon's mind worked and sensed the direction of his thoughts, but it wasn't Arthur that answered.

"The Holy Grail is said to grant many gifts to those that drink from it, for no price at all," Merlin said, barely loud enough for them all to hear. He looked up from his dish, glancing at them each in turn before returning his attention to his food and carrying on. "Some say that it was the chalice Christ used at the Last Supper, others say it's just an enchanted cup, similar to the Cup of Life perhaps. But it _is_ dangerous. A lot of those that have captured it before were too scared to use it, but there have been a few undocumented cases of its use..." The young man trailed off and spent a few moments just eating, before Gwaine's curiosity got the better of him.

"And? What happened? Even if they weren't written about, surely there's rumours and stories passed down by word of mouth?"

"There is," Merlin nodded, seeming to be reluctant to share what information he had. The knights looked at each other – Merlin had been fine, his usual cheery self, during the ride (even after Arthur had told him of their quest for the Grail) but now he was uncharacteristically quiet and solemn. They'd only ever seen him this way when something really bad was going on that threatened Arthur and Camelot. Surely their quest wasn't that dangerous?

"Merlin," Arthur started, sitting forwards a little to try and catch his friend's attention. Merlin looked up not because of the movement, but because of the tone of voice Arthur was using. It was cautious but demanding, a combination Merlin hadn't heard directed at him before. "What do you know that we don't?"

Merlin frowned and looked back down at his now-empty dish. Sighing, he set it at his feet, seeing that the others had long since finished their own meals. "I don't know if any of the stories are true because legends can be twisted and changed to suit the speaker if they're not written down, and some of them are just plain hearsay, but there are a few, spoken by the Druids, that can be trusted more than any to be the truth..." His mouth twisted in a way that they were familiar with when the raven haired man was thinking hard about something. None of the knights brought up the fact that they were all wondering how Merlin knew of the stories told by the Druids.

Not yet, anyway.

"I forget where I heard it – it was a long time ago, now - but there's one story that tells of a King that found the cup and drank the blood of his opponent from it. Just one mouth full, apparently, and he went mad. He started to speak in other languages, including the Old Religion. He spoke about the things he could see; the spirits of those he'd killed and those that had died for him, and he dreamt of the future that would come, or of things happening at that moment in other places, far from his realm. His people became scared when, in a rare state of lucidity, he ordered all those without magic to be hunted down and killed. You might think it would be hypocritical to say so, but he himself, and his daughter, had displayed signs of magical gifts from early ages – weak magic that they couldn't control, yes, but it was there."

Merlin paused as he tried to remember what the Druid had told him – for it had actually been during his time at Camelot that he had heard several stories of legend from the Druid people. His hands were clasped beneath his chin, elbows braced on his knees as he watched the fire. The knights waited with bated breath for the servant to continue. "No one knew why he did it. Those that spoke out against him would be taken to his court chambers and never came out. Over the course of three years thousands died, one in twenty taken to the castle – never to be heard of again. His daughter vanished near the end of the third year.

"On the third anniversary of the day he found the Grail, the King stepped out of his castle, the exact image of the man he was before he set out on his quest for the sacred cup. Then he killed himself with his own sword, right there on the steps of his castle, for everyone to see," and so saying, Merlin started to gather the used utensils and went to the small brook a few yards from their camp, taking advantage of the quiet that ensued. He didn't like thinking of that story and it made him regret eating anything as he started feeling queasy, but now he'd finished speaking he could push it from his mind again and let the quiet of the forest soothe his creeping headache.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Merlin turned in surprise when he heard Percival's voice. His foot slipped as he turned, and Merlin lost balance. With a small and almost muted splash, the man landed on his backside in the brook, looking very unimpressed. Percival laughed to himself and held out a hand to help Merlin to his feet.

"Are you okay?" the knight repeated, still smiling widely in amusement.

"Besides having a wet backside, now? I'm fine," Merlin rebuffed, rolling his eyes. He went back to washing the cooking pot and the things they'd used whilst eating.

"You look pale, you know. Like you're sick or something," Percival pressed, his voice as gentle as ever.

"I'm fine, Percival, really," Merlin repeated, glancing back up as Percival joined him in cleaning the dishes and giving him one of his wide, toothy grins.

The knight smiled back and stayed quiet, letting Merlin act as thought he believed he'd accepted the weak lie of being okay. But Percival remained watchful, and once they'd both returned to camp and the atmosphere was as cheerful and joking as they were all used to (many and most of the jokes being at Merlin's or Arthur's expense), the others kept an eye on their young friend also.

~#~

Normally, the knights would remove their red capes when entering another kingdom without intending to meet with the ruler of said kingdom, but Mercia was an ally that had been befriended by Uther to end the bloodshed of years of war and Arthur saw no need to immediately hide who they were. They were only passing through the kingdom and even if they were found by Mercian knights the worse that would happen is that they would have to take a detour to see Lord Bayard. Arthur hoped it wouldn't come to that. If they met with Bayard, then it would be unlikely that they could hide the intentions of their quest.

It was fortunate then that they met no one else on their travels over the following days. It was on the last day in Mercian territory when they heard the war cry of bandits and in moments the small party of Camelot knights were surrounded.

**Word count: 2,669**


	3. Chapter 3

Wow. It was three in the morning when I finished this chapter, barely two hours after I started it. Conversations are awkward and it is moving a little slowly :/  
Please review and tell me what you think. Should I speed up the action a bit or is this pace okay(ish) ?  
Next chapter is where the real action starts.

* * *

Chapter 3

It was on the last day in Mercian territory when they heard the war cry of bandits and in moments the small party of Camelot knights were surrounded.

There was barely a moment's notice in which they had to react, but the knights were well trained and natural fighters. They all had their swords drawn and were ready for the bandits even as the first one reached them and several crossbow bolts whizzed past them, barely missing their marks.

Merlin's horse reared up, threatening to throw the young man from his saddle. He was the only unarmed member of the group and found three bandits running towards him with yells of triumph on their lips and weapons held high. Knowing Arthur was currently too occupied to come to his aid, Merlin cast about frantically for some way to save himself without bringing too much attention to himself.

An arrow aimed at Arthur's back proved to be just what he needed. With a flash of golden eyes, Merlin subtly changed the arrow's flight path so it hit one of the bandits instead, sending him tumbling backwards in shock and taking down one of his companions as well. The third bandit was dispatched by Percival before Merlin had to resort to throwing himself from his horse. The latter of the two men shot his friend and grateful smile.

Quiet reined over them less than a minute later. The six men calming their horses as they surveyed the bodies scattered around them. It had been a very short fight, but the bandits had seemed a lot less organised and were weaker than those they normally came into contact with. What that said about Camelotian bandits, none of them particularly wanted to know, but they were all glad to see that the worst injuries were a few shallow gashes and some dented armour.

Nervous laughter came from Merlin's throat as the adrenaline of the fight wore off, even if he hadn't actually done anything. Gwaine chuckled at the look of fear on their young comrade's face, but stopped suddenly, his body jerking in a way they all recognised with sickening clarity. A crossbow bolt protruded from his chest plate.

"Gwaine!" Arthur shouted in alarm, jumping from his horse and running over in time to steady the knight that slumped over the neck of his own horse.

While the King checked the severity of their friend's wound, the rest of them cast about for the one that had shot him. Merlin spotted the stray bandit first and with a glare and another flash of gold, a strong gust of wind blew through the forest, giving cause for a weak tree to collapse on top of the man attempting to get to his feet.

"Merlin," Leon called even as Percival and Elyan went to see if the bandit was dead, unconscious or just feigning it.

Knowing that his steadily-growing skills as a physician were needed, Merlin nodded and went to where Leon and Arthur had lain Gwaine on the grass a few yards from the edge of the road. They were out of the way of the road and not in immediate sight of anyone travelling on it, so they were safer here and could set up camp there if needed. The horses were trained well enough to have followed and stood grazing together nearby.

Gwaine was pale and trying not to show how much it hurt, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists at his sides. It was a lucky thing the arrow had only pierced his shoulder about an inch, Merlin reflected as he inspected the wound as best as he could – Arthur and Leon had removed Gwaine's armour and chainmail.

"Fetch my saddlebag and some water, please," Merlin told the pair, and despite the demanding tone he used, neither man said anything as they scrambled to get what he'd asked for. They trusted Merlin's judgement and allowed his slip in authority when it came to the wellbeing of their own.

"Here," Leon handed Merlin a water skin as he dropped to his knees on Gwaine's other side, and Arthur sat beside Merlin, the pack set down open between them. Merlin nodded his thanks and poured a little water on the wound around the arrow, cleaning it of blood so he could see what he was about to do.

"Hold him down," Merlin told them, leaning his weight on Gwaine's arm and grasping the shaft of the arrow in his free hand. Seeing what he was about to do, Arthur and Leon restrained their friend.

Gwaine barely made a sound as the arrow was pulled out of his shoulder, but tensed and after a few seconds let out a stream of curses that made the three men smile ruefully.

"Well?" Arthur asked as Percival and Elyan rejoined them shortly, eyes drawn to where Merlin was stitching Gwaine's shoulder with a steady hand.

"Dead. It landed on the back of his head while he was standing and broke his neck," Elyan reported. Arthur grunted in dismay, a little angry at the fact the bandit had gotten away easily after shooting one of his friends.

Gwaine huffed and smiled, "Looks like I'll be as useless as Merlin, now. That was my good sword arm," he joked weakly, still pale and shaking minutely.

The others gave him a smile but they all knew how lucky he was that the shooter hadn't been more accurate. Arthur was sourly tempted to send Gwaine home to Camelot, but said knight saw the look on his King's face and shook his head. "You can't send me back, now. I'll be fine enough to hold my own with my other arm. I'll only be begging to be attacked if I go back on my own and you can't spare anyone else to accompany me," Gwaine reasoned.

"He's right, Arthur," Elyan agreed when Arthur didn't acquiesce. "Plus, you can't tell us you're going after the Holy Grail and then send us – or one of us – home."

Merlin huffed, obviously holding back his laughter as he hide his grin by bowing his head over his work, bandaging Gwaine shoulder now.

"What?" Arthur asked sharply, knowing without having to even look that Merlin was finding something funny about this.

Merlin glanced up to see if he was in trouble for laughing, then shrugged. "It's just, you're stuck with us no matter what happens. You know that by now but you still sometimes try to tell us to go home. I don't know why you bother anymore," he explained.

"Yeah, even when I'd left Camelot before, you couldn't get rid of me," Gwaine grinned. He tentatively sat up with Merlin's help, poking at the bandages wrapped tightly around his shoulder until their stand-in physician slapped his hand away and fiercely scowled at him.

"Come on, you can still manage a few more miles can't you? We should at least cover a few more miles before making camp. That way we can cross into Tam's Kingdom sometime tomorrow," Leon reasoned.

"I'll be fine as long as we don't ride too fast or get attacked on the road again," Gwaine agreed.

Arthur sighed and helped him to his feet. "Let's go then. Tell us if you need to stop," he told the injured man sternly, almost ordering him to do so since they all knew that Gwaine wouldn't hinder their progress just because he was in pain.

"Here," Merlin stopped Gwaine as the others went to mount their horses. He handed him a piece of willow bark from a bundle in his pack. "Chew this, it helps with the pain."

Taking it, Gwaine rose an eyebrow at the piece of bark as if Merlin had just told him it was a cure for the common cold. But he saw the serious look on the warlock's face and shrugged with his good shoulder, shoved it in his mouth and started chewing. Almost immediately, his face scrunched up and he spat it back out into his palm, looking back to a laughing Merlin in disgust.

"That tastes horrible!" Gwaine exclaimed.

"Yeah, but it works," Merlin grinned cheekily. He could have given him something to take the bad taste away, but that's what Gwaine got for making fun of Merlin's swordsmanship, no matter how right he was.

Gwaine made a sound of disgust, stared at the slightly-chewed piece of bark in his hand and decided it was probably not worth making a fuss over. Trying not to grimace as he put it back in his mouth, Gwaine pulled himself into the saddle and they continued on towards the Mercia's south border again.

True to Leon's prediction, they were able to get within a half-day's ride of the border before Merlin noticed that Gwaine had started lagging a bit, a less-than cheerful look on his pale face. He hadn't regained any of his colour and was seating slightly, but when whined at the suggestion of stopping even though it was still mid-afternoon. It took Arthur ordering him to shut up and get off his horse to make him comply.

Helping the older man off his horse, Percival walked with Gwaine to where Elyan, Leon and Merlin had put their packs, near to where the fire would be once they'd gathered some wood – which was what Arthur stomped off to do once Gwaine had stopped insisting that he was fine.

Merlin moved to Gwaine's side once Percival had put a heavy on the man's good shoulder and got him to sit down.

"I'm fine, Merlin, the willow bark worked, honestly," Gwaine said, trying to wave Merlin away.

"It only carries on working for a short while after you stop chewing it, you idiot. The chemical that works as a pain reliever is hard to get out of it, so you need that constant supply," Merlin told him, holding Gwaine's wrist in a surprisingly tight grip with just one hand, using his free hand to unclasp Gwaine's cloak – they'd had to cut his tunic off because they couldn't move his arm to take it off. Luckily, there was a village nearby they'd agreed to pause at the next day to get more supplies. "You spat it out at about noon, so there's no way it doesn't hurt," Merlin finished, and as if to prove his point, Gwaine hissed in pain when he accidentally moved his arm in the wrong way. "Idiot," Merlin chastised softly. Gwaine gave him a sheepish smile and stopped complaining.

"Do you have _any_ idea where the Grail is, Arthur? Or are we to search the whole kingdom for it?" Gwaine asked later that afternoon, as he slumped against a tree less than a yard from the fire. He wore fresh bandages and was wrapped up in a blanket after Merlin had scolded him for pushing himself until he was starting to get feverish.

~#~

The group had been fairly quiet since making camp, only a few words being exchanged every now and then, most of them in regards to how Gwaine was fairing or how they'd leap to his rescue if they were attacked on the road again before he was well enough to defend himself properly.

"I'm not really sure, but I have a few places in mind," Arthur replied haltingly.

"So, we're searching the whole kingdom, basically," Merlin reiterated with a knowing smirk.

Arthur gave him a deadpan stare that turned into an expression that was almost a pout. "Yeah, basically," he nodded in agreement.

"Does this mean we get to go to taverns looking for information?" Gwaine asked, hope shining in his eyes. They all knew he didn't want to go to the taverns just because they were where you could easily get information.

"No," Arthur replied quickly. "I won't have you getting drunk and giving away who we are. We don't even know if this Kingdom is a friend of Camelot or not. They haven't been part of any peace treaties so I'm not sure where we stand with them. We're stowing our cloaks before we break camp tomorrow," he added hastily.

"Won't we needed to hide our swords as well?" Leon asked carefully. "They had the Pendragon crest on them – they're known to be carried by yourself and your knights," he explained.

Arthur shook his head, "No, they won't notice the crests under the cloaks we'll get from the village and if anyone sees and asks, we stole them from a patrol we took out a few weeks ago, okay?"

Nods of understanding were given in reply, though none of them looked very happy at the prospect of lying so.

"How do you think Gaius will react to hearing you'll be gone for a month, Merlin?" Elyan asked, changing the topic to try and lift the mood a little.

Merlin laughed nervously. He'd told Gaius before he left that he wasn't sure how long he'd be gone, but it couldn't be much longer than a week or so. The length of the trip hadn't been decided until well after the meeting Arthur had held with the courtiers, so Gaius hadn't known what they'd left to do before they'd gone.

"He'll kill me," Merlin replied confidently. "Well, if I don't die protecting Gwaine," he grinned widely at said injured man, ducking quickly as a stick came flying at his head. "That doesn't work, you know. I get enough practice dodging things when I try and wake Arthur up in a morning," Merlin said, only grinning wider and fully expecting the slap to the back of the head. That didn't mean it didn't sting a little, but it made the others laugh, at least.

"Hey... How about I go with someone to the village and pick up supplies now, before nightfall. We can be there and back in a couple of hours and then we won't have to stop tomorrow. We'll make it to the border before noon," Leon reasoned, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them.

"I'll go with you. We'll rearrange a couple of saddle bags, so it won't seem as odd to buy for more than two people for a couple of days," Elyan agreed, looking to Arthur as he went to stand, remembering who was actually in charge here. Sometimes it was just so easy to forget that Arthur wasn't their friend and equal; he was their King.

But Arthur saw the logic in getting supplies now, instead of wasting half a day so Gwaine could rest. He nodded. "Be as quick as you can. The horses have tonight to rest, still, so ride hard. And try not to be followed."

"Yes, Sire," the knights nodded and went to sort their saddlebags, quickly mounting their steeds and heading off to the south-east at a steady gallop.

"Percival," Arthur started once the two knights were out of sight.

"Yes Sire?" Percival asked, his attention immediately on Arthur.

"Go and hunt for some food. There's no need to waste provisions where we know we're fine using our skills to survive."

"Yes, Sire," Percival nodded as Leon and Elyan had, going to collect the crossbow and quiver of bolts from his own saddle bags.

"I'll go with you," Merlin volunteered, jumping to his feet.

"Merlin, you're-"

"I'm not _entirely_ useless, Arthur. And it's not as thought you or Gwaine can go with him. Gwaine's not allowed to move from there other than to lie down and sleep-" a pointed look from the warlock reinforced the would-be order, "-and you need to stay and guard him and the camp in case anything happens," Merlin says without missing a beat.

"But you'll probable scare everything off. It'll take three times longer with you there," Arthur argued.

Merlin frowned. "I'm not useless, Arthur," he repeated. Sure, he falls over a lot, but that's partly because he's not paying attention and partly because he tries to stop Arthur killing anything when they go on hunts together.

"Then here," Arthur sighed, collecting the second sword from where it was strapped to his saddle and handing it to his manservant. "At least arm yourself so you look half-competent."

"Prat," Merlin grumbled at the insult. If only Arthur knew. If only Lancelot was around to give him one of those reassuring smiles that said 'I appreciate what you do for us.'

"Idiot," Arthur retorted without thinking about it, the affection obvious in his voice as he playfully brushed past the younger man to sit near Gwaine and put a few more sticks on the fire.

Merlin smiled a little and strapped the sword belt around his waist, catching up to Percival as the knight started off into the forest.

**Word count: 2,778**


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry if anyone spotted this up earlier, but I had a few quick edits to make so I deleted it again. Anyway. Thank you SO much, all of you that are still reading this, have favourited and put this on their story alerts, and a huge Thank You to TheImpossiblePen, Lady Willamina and BlackThorne(anon) for reviewing. It means a lot XD  
Also, TheImpossiblePen has helped me so much with this chapter as my new Beta.  
I wouldn't have had it ready to post tonight with you!

* * *

Chapter 4

Merlin smiled a little and strapped the sword belt around his waist, catching up to Percival with nimble steps as the knight started off into the forest.

The trees were close together in this part of the forest and Merlin hadn't taken five steps before he could no longer see the small clearing they had set up camp in. The silence that engulfed the pair was eerie and still. Bird calls from the canopy above their heads were few and far between but provided some relief from the quiet.

Seeing that his friend was either ignoring the silence or had yet to notice, Merlin kept close to Percival and stepped where the knight stepped to avoid falling over for as long as he could. The moss covering most of the ground prevented their footsteps breaking the quiet, and a sense of unease filled the young warlock.

It was too quiet here.

Back at the camp there had been the sounds of the fire crackling as it ate its way through the wood they fed to it, as well as their own voices on top of that most of the time, so none of them had noticed the quiet until now.

If Percival didn't know any better, he would think that he was alone as he stepped carefully between the trees, tracking a deer that had passed through this part of the forest about an hour previously - possibly the only game nearby. Merlin was almost as quiet as himself and hadn't tripped over anything yet, barely making a sound as he followed in Percival's footsteps.

The sharp snap of a twig, the crunch of old, fallen leaves being crushed beneath a pair of knees and the sudden muffled curses from behind him made the larger man chuckle, his shoulders shaking with the effort to remain silent. Okay, so Merlin had tripped _once_. It was still definitely a record.

"Ouch." Merlin quickly got back to his feet and brushed his hands off on his shirt. He was glad that he had managed to stop himself from falling flat on his face and had merely grazed his palms on the hard-packed earth. His hands now stung, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as he carried on after his friend.

"You okay?" Percival asked once he was sure the mirth was hidden behind the genuine concern for his friend.

Merlin nodded, checking his palms again – the skin was red and raw, with bits of dirt smeared over them. They'd need washing when they got back to camp, but he'd survive. "Yeah, I'm fine," he replied easily, giving Percival a bright smile. The knight shook his head and turned back to the hunt.

A weird feeling had been creeping up Merlin's spine for a few hours. He had barely noticed it earlier when he had felt as though someone was watching him back at the camp where Arthur and Gwaine were, but now the feeling was pervasive. He had been feeling it since the bandits had attacked earlier. Knowing Percival wouldn't go too far from the camp, Merlin had opted to move away from his two companions to see if whoever was watching him would follow.

He didn't know whether to be relieved, worried or downright scared when they did. Or at least, the feeling of being watched stayed with him, so he assumed they'd followed close behind. Now if only he could find them…

"_This one has power," she murmured to her companion as she watched the pair moving quietly through the forest, thinking__themselves to be more aware than they were._

"_He has magic that we have not met before. He may be a danger later on," he agreed with a curt nod. "Should I dispose of him now or are we going to wait for them to cross the border?"_

"_We cannot," she hissed. "They would be less likely to carry on if one of them went missing."_

"_But he has already sensed us. See how he is more cautious than the other? We got too close__to the camp without the aid of our enchantments," he retorted. "He will alert them to our presence."_

_There was silence for a moment, as if there really was nobody standing__in the shadows that had formed in the forest.__The pair had been following the group since they had left Camelot, just waiting for the right time to move in on them, slowly closing the distance between them. They used the shadows as their cover, creating a shield of enchantments that let none look upon them._

"_Then you will take his place,"__she ordered, a finality to her voice that her companion did not dare argue._

Merlin peered over Percival's shoulder and through the gap between the trees in front of them. The deer they had been tracking stood grazing less than two yards away and they had almost walked straight into it. Luckily, the knight had stopped before the animal had sensed them, and the wind had mercifully cast their scents back behind them.

Motioning for Merlin to move back just a little, Percival readied a bolt in his crossbow and took careful aim at the animal. The creak and click of the crossbow was unnaturally loud in the equally unnatural quiet of the forest and the deer raised its head, staring straight at the pair crouched holding their breath as its ears twitched. Neither man moved for fear of making some kind of noise and scaring off their prey. It would be hours before they found anything else that would last them as long as this deer would, and Arthur would no doubt blame Merlin and his clumsiness for allowing their dinner to get away.

Finally, the deer deemed it safe enough to carry on eating and did just that. Ears twitching at every noise, the slender animal dipped its head to the grass a second time, and Merlin and Percival let out slow breaths of relief.

The soft crunch of leaves behind them drew Merlin's attention even as the other man raised the crossbow in his hands once more. All Merlin saw when he turned his head to look was trees, trees and more trees. He was probably just tired, he told himself, turning back to watch Percival lean forwards to get a better aim.

_She cursed her companion as he stirred the foliage on the forest floor, but it seemed that the young magic-user was not quite as aware of them as he had seemed, for he wasn't able to see past their enchantments. Not that many could even when they knew the pair were there._

"_Quickly, Damien!" she scolded._

There it was again!

Merlin frowned as he turned to see what had disturbed the bush behind him, just as Percival pulled the trigger on the crossbow and let the bolt fly with deadly accuracy towards its target. A part of the warlock was extremely glad for the distraction that let him miss seeing the poor animal's death.

Again, there was nothing. Merlin berated himself for being so edgy. There hadn't been an attempt on Arthur's life since they had taken back the city and the blond had been crowned King. Instead of relaxing, Merlin found himself more tense than ever. It was as though someone had prevented any ill-wishers of the crown to get close enough for the unnamed protector of the king to get wind of them simply because they knew nothing would touch the King, or even come to his attention, if Merlin had anything to do with it.

"Come on," Percival beckoned to the distracted younger man, handing him the crossbow and breaking his cover to make sure the deer was dead. It would be cruel to allow the animal to suffer if the arrow had not killed it yet.

"_Hurry, or we will lose our chance!" she growled, angry that Damien had stalled so much._

_The warning was in vain, however, as a mere moment later, her comrade made his move._

Noises behind him made Merlin turn fully, this time. It couldn't be just anything if he had distinctly heard movement three times already. But he didn't get time to contemplate the fact there was yet again nothing there as the figure of a tall man – taller than himself, but still smaller than Percival – emerged out of thin air right in front of him. A gloved hand quickly covered his mouth and a muttered word sent him drowning in darkness.

~#~

The fire crackled merrily in the clearing where Arthur and Gwaine still sat, both idly staring at the fire. The smell of smoke gently wafted around them with the breeze, but to them it wasn't overbearing. Instead it was a comfort that showed they'd survived another day of travel and didn't have to worry about covering their tracks. They knew it probably wouldn't last long, that Tam's Kingdom could well be more dangerous than anywhere they had been so far, but for now it was a welcome balm for their worries.

Gwaine was surveying the area they had settled in, taking in the way that there was more moss than grass on the ground between the trees, but there was a layer of leaf mould that was due to the harsh rains that had swept through Mercia barely a week before the party from Camelot had entered its borders.

Both men sitting beside the fire were bored, but neither was really up to getting up and finding something to do. The horses had been tethered to a tree at the edge of the camp, the saddlebags gathered at the base of said tree. Leon and Elyan had removed their cloaks before leaving for the village, and the red bundles were poking out of one of the leather bags.

Finally, it was Gwaine that once more broke the silence with a question that had been nagging at him for a while now.

"Why are you even here, Arthur? You said you couldn't miss this quest, but why? Merlin was right when he said you shouldn't leave Camelot for so long in one trip. Surely this is something we knights could have done in your stead? Or we could have come out to find the Grail's exact location before you joined us and took it, yourself..."

Arthur contemplated the matter in silence for a while, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. It would be better to just tell Gwaine what had happened. He was supposed to trust these men, after all.

"There have been a lot of reports that the people are not happy with my ascension to the throne, and some of the things I have done during my short rein," he began, the fatigue obvious in his voice.

The young King had thought that he'd done a very good job, considering that he had spent the first couple of months mourning Gwen's death and doing next to _nothing_when it came to his proper duties. But it hadn't been long before he had started to see where his troubles would lie and where he had to start making compromises. Arthur Pendragon was determined not to turn into the tyrant his father – God rest his soul – had become, but Uther's tyranny had at least had some order to it. This order had to be dismantled, slowly, piece by piece, and re-established into a new regime that was still easy for the people to accept but was fair—and just in a way that Arthur knew in his heart was right. Some of his acts as King hadn't sat well with some citizens, however.

"There has even been word that some of the other kingdoms think that I'm too young, or too inexperienced and soft to be King. I don't know if the first years are supposed to be the hardest, or what, but I do know that I must prove myself to be better than they believe me to be..." Not that that was the whole reason Arthur had insisted on personally leading this quest, but Gwaine didn't need to know any more than that. The knights didn't need to know that their King was forever full of self-doubt and hadn't been as confident as he appeared since the death of his beloved Guinevere. He had failed to protect the one person closest to his heart, and he desperately needed to prove to himself that he was still strong enough to carry on without buckling under the pressure of the expectations of everyone around him.

Gwaine huffed and shook his head, picking up a stick from nearby and poking it into the fire, sending sparks spiralling into the air like hundreds of tiny candle lights dancing in the updraft of the flames. "You see? This is _precisely_why I dislike nobles," he grumbled darkly. "The council didn't say anything against these so-called reports, did they? They just sat on their backsides, sending you on a worthless quest into unknown lands. You need to get away from them more, Arthur," Gwaine shook the charred stick at the blond, as though lecturing a small child.

"Why would they say anything against the reports? I have told people to not just tell me what I want to hear and instead tell me the truth. So, if the reports are true, why would they speak against them?" Arthur shot back.

Gwaine tilted his head at the other man, wondering whether the crown he wore most days had sapped the intellect out of Arthur. Perhaps the crown had grown to be too tight after all, seeing as Arthur's head had certainly swelled beyond its normal size... "And what if the reports were composed of lies?" he asked boldly, knowing he may well be crossing a line that they kept to even in the most relaxed circumstances.

If the thunderous look on Arthur's face was anything to go by, Gwaine had definitely pushed the line. ...But maybe he hadn't crossed it completely. "Then there are less people whom I can trust, in my court and I have been lead to be a fool," Arthur ground out angrily.

**Word count: ****2,391**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Elyan cast his gaze over the stalls of the market, waiting for Leon to finish buying a week's worth of smoked and salted meat. Not that it was going to actually last that long, with the appetites of a few people in the group. But it was enough to make up the rest of what they had already bought in the last half hour.

The dark-skinned knight noticed that there were few beggars on these streets. Everyone was dressed respectably, even if the quality of their clothing wasn't any better than that of the small villages and hamlets of Camelot. It gave the village a certain charm, which either resulted in or was the result of the numerous smiles cast in his direction. The hello's and 'good afternoon's of the salesmen and women were ever chipper as the time slowly passed them by.

The market was a hub of activity despite the fact it was well past midday and the afternoon was wearing on. The vendors' calls offering competitive deals to attract customers rang through the square. Laughter echoed behind him as a young courting couple passed, arm in arm and barely paying attention to anyone but each other. A horse whinnied somewhere nearby, catching the attention of the mares standing obediently with Elyan. One of the mares tossed her head and nudged Elyan's back playfully, no doubt knowing the whinny had been from a horse unknown to her. The knight turned to stroke his horse's neck, calming her again with a few whispered words.

"What else do we need?" Leon asked as he rejoined Elyan, startling the other man from his thoughts.

"Just cloaks and a few shirts…At least one for Gwaine, anyway," Elyan replied, handing the reins of Leon's horse to his friend once the food had been packed into one of the saddle bags. They had all been smart enough to take a spare change of clothes, but that left Gwaine without a spare shirt. It was always better to be safe than sorry, so they had decided to add a shirt to their list as a necessary expense.

Leon nodded, stepping back as a group of small children ran past them, chased by a dog that was barking and wagging its tail joyfully. A huddle of adults deep in discussion trailed after the screaming children, sparing cautious glances to their offspring every couple of seconds.

Looking around for a seamstress or clothing stall, unable to find either in the immediate area, Leon opted for a sure fire way of being sure they headed in the right direction.

"Excuse me," he began, smiling politely, placing a gentle hand on an older woman's shoulder to catch her attention before she was out of reach. She blinking up at him owlishly, obviously suspicious at being stopped by a stranger in the middle of the market but not so suspicious as to brush him off and walk away. She may have been able to actually help him. "Could you tell me where my friend and I could purchase new cloaks?" Leon enquired.

A smile spread across the woman face almost before the newcomer had finished speaking. Her green eyes shone with motherly affection at the careful, almost uncertain tone Leon had used, and she brushed pale locks of loose curls from her face.

"Of course, dear!" She nodded, turning to indicate further down the market row, hefting her wicker basket higher on her hip so that it was easier to carry. "Take the right after the bakery and it's just on your left."

"Thank you." Leon and Elyan nodded their heads in turn, tugging gently on the reins in their hands so the horses would know to follow.

"It's no problem," the woman replied, giving them a nod in return and going back to her own shopping.

As she had said, the seamstress was just down the side street after the bakery. It was an equally bustling street, but there were no stalls here; only houses that were used as trade points. There was a library occupying the ground floor of one house, an apothecary in the basement of the house next to it, and the ground floor of the house opposite the apothecary was used to buy and sell textiles and clothing, as well as offering repairs for both –the seamstress'. Many more houses-turned-businesses lined the street. Elyan handed his reins to Leon and went in search of the last items that they needed.

It was darker inside than it had been in the market and Elyan took a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust. Several candles lit the room from strategic positions on the walls, where the light from the candelabra hanging from the ceiling couldn't reach.

"Good afternoon, Sir," came a young girl's voice from a door that must have lead to the back of the house –possibly the kitchen, if the smells wafting through the shop were anything to go by. "How can I be of service?" she asked, almost hesitantly.

The girl that stood in the doorway was small, barely reaching Elyan's elbow in height, but she was surely older than the ten years her appearance suggested. That, or the wisdom and maturity in her wide eyes was begotten of a life of hardship that she may or may not still be a part of.

"I need a shirt," Elyan answered, nodding, careful to keep his voice soft and friendly as he turned to look around the shop properly. As bookshelves would line the walls of a library, open-faced wardrobes lined the edges of the shop Elyan now stood in. A few stands displayed coordinated outfits for both men and women; the latest fashions that had reached this part of Mercia, most likely. Luckily, he spotted that there were three such wardrobes filled with cloaks, but first things were first.

"Any particular cut or colour?" the girl inquired, striding confidently over to the other side of the room and beckoning for the young man to follow. She drew a stool up to stand on and pulled a few items from the rack. "Is it for you, or another? Your brother, perhaps? Or a female friend? I know a few of the unwed women are into that style of dress," she continued, pulling samples off of the rack to show Elyan. Her smile was dazzling as she grinned teasingly at Elyan, catching the man off-guard.

The girl seemed to have gone from meek and subservient to confident and cheeky in the time it took her to cross the room. Her eyes were green and her hair was fair, falling in gentle waves down her back, and with a jolt he realised that she bore a striking resemblance to the woman that Leon had asked directions from. Well this _was_a convenient coincidence...

As the girl tilted her head and rose an expectant eyebrow (and looking so much like Arthur that Elyan almost burst out laughing), he shook himself back to the present and smiled in return.

"It's for a friend," he replied, feeling the blush in his cheeks as he realised that she'd been inadvertently asking if he was buying for his girlfriend.

~#~

Arthur's eyes snapped open as the sounds of someone approaching through the trees drifted over to him on the almost nonexistent breeze. He may have been half asleep, but he was well aware of what was going on around him as Gwaine muttered something under his breath about 'almost being at the border by now,' his mood obviously still sour.

The sounds came closer and they both sat alert, hands flying to the hilts of their swords. Arthur moved so he was ready to jump to his feet if it wasn't who they thought it was, but Gwaine knew he would probably just fall over if he tried to get up that quickly and so stayed where he was. He could fight well enough from a crouch if Arthur didn't kill them first. Whoever it was, was almost in sight, and the pair looked to each gap in the trees; their eyes darting back and forth.

A crash and muffled _'Ow'_that was quickly followed by a chuckle caused them to relax and smile.

"What was it this time? Thin air?" Arthur called, using the joke to tell Percival and Merlin that he knew they were there, the amusement obvious in his voice.

Percival emerged from the thicket of trees with a wide smile on his face, the deer he shot earlier slung over his shoulder. Merlin stumbled out behind him, practically falling all over himself as he fumbled with the crossbow. He seemed to have caught it, but it slipped from his fingers again and hit the forest floor with a soft thud. It was a little melodramatic, even for Merlin, but none of them thought anything of it. After all, this was _Merlin_.

"Did you put your shoes on the wrong feet this morning?" Gwaine kidded, grinned at his friend.

The young warlock rolled his eyes. "No," he pouted, going to put the crossbow away (he fiddled with it for a few moments as if he'd forgotten how to put it away properly) before sitting between Arthur and Gwaine. Starting to prepare the stew for their evening meal, the manservant hummed absently under his breath.

By sitting between the two men, Merlin visibly reduced the tension, oblivious to the apologetic half-smiles being exchanged behind his back.

What none of them noticed was how the forest had slowly started to come back to life around them, the birdsongs erupting from the trees more frequently as the shadows seemed to lift and allow more light to filter through to the forest floor. The animals seemed to sense that the shadows had started to dissipate, and they became more active as they left their hiding places and went back to their lives.

"Are your hands all right now?" Percival asked as he prepared the deer.

"Huh?" Merlin blinked at him in confusion. Arthur and Gwaine looked a little startled as they stared at Merlin, looking him over for injuries.

"You fell and grazed your hands pretty badly back there. Don't think I didn't notice," the normally unobtrusive member of the knights insisted in a rare moment of voiced concern.

"Oh," Merlin frowned, bringing his hands a little closer to himself, trying to draw attention away from the unmarked flesh on his palms. "No, they're fine," he said, shaking his head a little to figuratively wave off his friends' concern.

"You could at least let one of us have a look, mate," Gwaine offered.

"So you can do what?" Merlin laughed. "I'm the only one here with any real medical knowledge. It's fine, seriously. Doesn't even hurt anymore," he defended with a wide smile, dusting his hands off on his trousers as if to make a point.

Neither of them believed him, but neither did they pursue the subject. Arthur figured that if Percival had been concerned enough to bring up the fact Merlin had hurt himself when he fell, then it must have been bad enough for the idiot to moan and whine about under normal circumstances. Instead, Merlin was brushing them off with a smile that didn't light up his eyes in the way they were so used to seeing.

Percival was simply very confused by the change in behaviour of their friend, whereas Gwaine turned his eyes to the other knight and wondered if something _else_had happened that he was hiding from them. Both Arthur and Gwaine decided that they would have to ask Percival later, when Merlin wasn't around.

~#~

The venison was cooking under Merlin's watchful eye as Gwaine regaled them with the tale of how he was set upon by a tavern full of drunkards and how he had come out on top, despite being just as intoxicated as everybody else when Leon and Elyan returned.

"Hey!" Gwaine cheered as he lifted a hand in greeting.

"Did you get what we need?" Arthur asked, glad that his friends were okay. Not that he'd been worried. No, of course not.

"Yes," Leon answered, sliding from his saddle and removing the saddle bags so that the weight didn't bother his horse during the night. Elyan followed suit, taking Leon's bag with his own, and he piled them with everyone else's packs near Gwaine.

"There's food enough for a week, at least, and new cloaks that should allow us to blend in easier—and a shirt for Gwaine," Elyan elaborated before Leon had chance to. He pulled said shirt from the top of one of his packs as he spoke, throwing it at Gwaine.

Not expecting anything to be thrown at him, Gwaine spluttered in surprise when the shirt hit him squarely in the face. "Oi!" he exclaimed indignantly as he pulled the shirt down into his lap. Gwaine levelled a glare at Elyan, but the young man just laughed and joined everyone around the fire.

Silence reined over the camp after that, and with a jolt Arthur realised why. Merlin wasn't laughing. The look of indignation and near mortification on Gwaine's face had almost made Arthur laugh, but certainly would have had Merlin gleefully taking jabs at his friend every two seconds. And as he did so, Arthur thought, he would have been grinning widely in that idiotic way of his, his eyes filled with genuine mirth. The boy's easy going nature, wit and sense of humour were most of the things that kept the knights in good spirits on long quests such as these.

Arthur didn't notice as Elyan started telling them about the girl from the seamstress' shop that had indirectly teased him almost from the moment he stepped into the shop. Instead, he watched his friends, particularly Merlin and Percival. His posture wasn't tense enough to give himself away – they were _his_knights and manservant, after all, and they would notice if he was too guarded about himself – but his eyes were keen and his hand rested near the hilt of his sword. The last precaution could be considered normal, however. Having his hand on his weapon reassured Arthur that he could find a way out of any situation, by force or otherwise.

Something was going on here and the King did not like being out of the loop. The last time he didn't know about something happening right under his nose had been when his uncle had betrayed him and Camelot to Morgana. Actually, it had been the surprise birthday party everyone had thrown him earlier that year, he recalled. But that didn't count…even though everyone had been acting rather suspiciously towards him the whole week leading up to his party.

~#~~#~

Water splashed over his face and Merlin sat up quickly, sputtering and gasping for breath. He feared that he would drown if he did not get oxygen into his lungs immediately. His head spun, but he stayed sitting up.

Except that there was no more water. What had landed on his face was barely enough to fill a single cup.

"Huh?" he groaned, slumping back onto the wall he had been lay against. His head stopped its infernal spinning when it had more support than the boy's own determination not to lie back down, and Merlin saw the woman leaning over him with a look of concern on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked, blinking her wide eyes at him in a display of innocence.

"Yeah'm fine," Merlin muttered, slurring his speech a little. He didn't even know why. His head was clearing and he didn't feel particularly tired or even injured. Maybe it was just the fact he had been woken in a cave he had never seen before, with a woman he had never met, with not a hair nor hide of Arthur and the knights anywhere.

_Not again…_

"You sure?" the girl pressed, obviously concerned. Looking up at her and wondering why she would care so much, Merlin took in her features, noting that her hair was dark – not black, but a very deep brown –and her eyes were grey, almost white with how light they were. A dark ring around the colour of her eyes made it unnerving to keep eye contact for too long, and the warlock found himself studying the freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose. And an elegant nose it was, he found himself thinking.

"Yes," Merlin insisted, shaking himself out of where those kinds of thoughts would lead him. His voice grew stronger with the sudden annoyance that rose within him. Two years and there had been nothing. Why did They choose _now_to make a move? Whoever _They__we_re.

Merlin's thoughts whirred around inside his head, threatening him with a headache until he pushed them away and got to his feet, brushing past the girl on his way to the entrance of the cave. It wasn't large, not nearly big enough to comfortably fit the party of knights he had been travelling with, but it was comfortable for two or three people to spend a night in. It was dry and well sheltered by the trees outside; hard to find if you didn't know it was there.

"Where are you going?" She caught up to him easily, keeping stride with Merlin and clasping her hands behind her back. It reminded the warlock of his mentor and he groaned. Gaius was going to kill him.

"I need to find my friends," Merlin responded automatically. "They're going to be wondering where I've gone." _No doubt Arthur's worried,_ he added to himself, hoping that Percival hadn't been blamed for his disappearance – not even Merlin had been able to tell that anyone was there until it was beyond too late.

"No you don't."

Merlin stopped in his tracks, frowning as he turned back to the girl. She had stopped walking a couple of seconds before and was a good three or so yards from the black-haired boy. "What?"

She stepped forwards with deliberate slowness, taking her time and not breaking eye contact. The slight smile was gone and while her eyes were still wide, they were filled with malice. Merlin shivered.

"You won't go after them," she told him. Her voice was soft, but confident and self-assured, sounding for a moment like Arthur, in one of his many_'I'm-not-angry-at-you-_yet_-but-if-you-don't-follow-my-orders-I-will-make-you-regret-it'_moods.

"Why? Because you're going to stop me?" Merlin asked. Even as he spoke, his back straightened and his chin rose. The warlock's voice told her that he was not always the bumbling servant he appeared to be at first and that she should not challenge his loyalties.

"Yes," she smiled.

They hadn't made it out of the cave yet, and as the girl's eyes flashed gold, a sinking feeling erupted in Merlin's stomach. Actually, no, that was just him being propelled up into the air, his back slamming into the roof of the cave before he dropped like a dead weight to the dusty floor below.

**Word count: 3,169**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Merlin, where's my sword?" Arthur asked abruptly later that evening. The thought had suddenly crept up on him and he stared at his manservant as he awaited an answer.

It was dark in the forest, the sounds of the birds and animals considerably lessened after the day had passed into night. Everything else seemed muted; the quiet crackling of the fire that cast long shadows over the group, Gwaine's soft snores from where he had fallen asleep against the tree, and the soft words of the murmured conversation between the other three knights.

Merlin had been fidgeting more and more as the darkness grew, but his eyes had rarely left the fire, only looking up when someone called his name, as Arthur had just done. His wide eyes turned to stare at Arthur in confusion. "What?" he asked, almost as if he hadn't heard what his King had said.

"Where is my sword?" Arthur repeated slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. His gaze never left Merlin's face, though his expression became even more stern. He didn't like repeating himself.

"Your sword?" Merlin asked haltingly, before pointing to the sword strapped to Arthur's belt, the hilt glistening in the firelight. "It's … right _there_, isn't it?" There was a note of uncertainty in his reply, as though he wondered if this was some kind of trick question.

The King looked down at his sword and then levelled a glare at his manservant; he thought perhaps Merlin was playing some kind of joke. Merlin was always playing jokes at Arthur's expense, almost as if to point out to everyone that the servant wasn't as dumb as he appeared.

"Yes, it is," Arthur agreed, still speaking slowly. He feared that he would lose his temper if he didn't. "But I have two swords, remember? And I gave you one of them before you left with Percival. Where is it?" He pressed, his voice taking on a hard edge.

Merlin blinked at Arthur as though he had no idea what he was talking about, when in reality he was scrambling to find a reply that wouldn't result in him being murdered. "Oh. Well. I … suppose I must have dropped it somewhere along the way." He mumbled, turning his gaze away as he realised that Arthur was starting to get suspicious of him now.

"Really? You _dropped_ it?" Arthur didn't believe the younger man, but there wasn't much he could do about the idiot. Instead, he carried on to say, "You can go and find it then, as soon as day breaks tomorrow. You'll take the last watch."

Merlin narrowed his eyes, but dipped his head slightly. "Yes Sire," he replied. He returned his gaze towards the fire once more. "Simple fool," he muttered, keeping his voice soft so as to not be overheard.

"What was that?" Arthur turned a sharp glare to his servant as he settled by the fire.

"Um, I said 'It's a useful tool' – the sword, I mean," Merlin nodded affirmatively, smiling brightly at the King. Arthur stared at him for a moment longer, but accepted the lie without argument and turned away from the younger man again. _That was too close,_ Merlin thought, staring into the depths of the flaming embers of the fire.

~#~

Bent over the small, circular platter in his hands, Merlin glanced around himself to be sure he hadn't been followed. It had been several long hours since his talk with Arthur and was so early in the morning that it wasn't quite sunrise yet. The forest was quiet around him as he sat cross-legged in the small gap between the trees well away from the camp. He was, in fact, sat near to the place where Percival had caught the deer for supper. As far as he knew, everyone else was blissfully unaware of his absence from the camp, seeing as it was supposed to be his watch and Elyan had long since fallen to sleep after the end of said knight's own watch.

Sure that he was alone, Merlin looked back to the platter held in his hands. It was small, barely larger than the full span of his hand, and made of polished silver, reinforced by magic and the runes of the Ancient language engraved into the smooth surface all around its edge. A few whispered words and a flash of gold later, and the reflected image of Merlin's face rippled liked water before falling still and turning pitch black.

"Tamara," Merlin called softly, speaking to the image before him.

For a moment, nothing stirred in the darkness, until a soft glow appeared, spreading across the image from one side to the other to show the inside of a cave. The face of a young woman quickly followed, blinking up at Merlin, before smiling, tucking her dark hair behind her ears as she leaned over the scrying medium that the platter had connected itself to.

"Damien," she greeted jovially. "That guise doesn't suit you in the slightest, you know." The amused smirk that slid into place on her face only served to irritate the young man on the other side of the two-way scrying window. And a _window_ it was, as the breeze from the forest blew gently through the connection to ruffle the woman's hair and cause a few locks to fall back into her face.

Merlin smirked in reply and said another quick word under his breath, his eyes turning gold for a second time as his figure blurred at the edges, and Merlin practically melted away to nothing, leaving another man sat in his place. The young warlock's black hair, blue eyes and angular features were replaced by long, blond hair that could rival Gwaine's own generous head of hair. Shockingly green eyes and the soft features of a man that was still years from his coming of age further replaced the manservant's appearance. He was slightly taller now, as well, the scruffy servant's attire replaced by well-worn clothes whose quality rivalled the King's own wardrobe.

Damien sighed and ran a hand through his hair, as if reassuring himself that it was all there as it should be. "It's rather uncomfortable, looking like that," he commented lightly, his voice an octave or two higher than it had been a moment ago.

"Well, you better get used to it. You're going to be there for a while and they must _not_ find out that their friend is no longer with them," Tamara told him firmly, a small smile still playing on her lips.

"I still don't like this, Tamara, it's too risky. The King has already started to suspect me because you-" Damien started, full of frustration and ready to lay the blame on someone other than himself, though he was mindful enough to stay quiet.

However, Tamara did not appreciate her companion's lack of respect for her authority and cut him off when she realised he was about to accuse _her_ for their untimely kidnapping of the King's manservant. "You will not blame this on me, Damien," she snapped, rewarding her with an alarmed look from the blond boy. "It was up to you to observe his mannerisms and how he spoke and you had plenty of time in which to do that. So you will not blame me if you are stupid enough to be caught."

"...I apologise, my Lady," Damien dipped his head in subservient respect and acknowledgement of her words. "But alas, this is not why I contacted you so early on."

"Oh? So why did you, then?" Tamara leaned a little closer, curious. The pale and unobtrusive light followed her until Damien caught a glimpse of the were-light hovering just above and behind her. The light was small, the size of the silver ring Damien wore on his left hand, and it cast the same soft glow that a candle would, minus the flickering.

"I need the sword that he was carrying. I had not realised until after you had left that I did not have it, and Arthur has already noticed its absence," Damien explained. There was no need for elaboration. The Lady knew who he was referring to, and therefore knew the sword to which he was referring.

For a moment, he feared that Tamara would scold him, tell him that he would have to simply face the wrath of Arthur Pendragon when he returned to the camp without the sword and that she would not help him fix any mess he found himself in thereon in.

Eventually his fears were allayed as she sighed and nodded.

"I'll fetch it you," she simply said, disappearing out of sight with a twirl of her dress.

The light of dawn was starting to filter through the trees as Damien leaned back against the trunk just behind him. If the knights woke up and came after him now then he would be up the creek without a paddle and with his boat about to be set on fire. Fortunately the light was little more than he could see by and wouldn't rouse the knights for another hour, yet, meaning he had the chance to relax as himself for a short while.

"Here," Tamara returned in less time than Damien had thought she would, holding a sword in both hands, sheath and sword-belt also attached.

"Thank you, Tamara," Damien smiled, waiting until the hilt of the sword had been passed through the window to him before he took hold of it in one hand and carefully pulled it the rest of the way through. It was odd for him to be holding a sword, as he did so very rarely. The gold-cast and leather-bound hilt was cool in his hand but not entirely uncomfortable, and he looked over the decoration on the hilt – the Pendragon crest glittering in the dappled sunlight falling through the canopy of leaves over head.

"I shall see you again soon, Damien. Do not let me down, please, or my father will be very upset with the _both_ of us," the young woman stressed her words slightly, emphasising them just enough so that the boy understood that she would be very angry if he failed and got her in trouble.

"Of course," the blond dipped his head again, not happy with the conspicuous threat she had just made towards him. Keeping his opinions to himself was the best option at that moment, though, and he knew this well. Making any remarks over the fact he couldn't be threatened so easily would only make her unnecessarily angry. An angry Tamara was not a merciful Tamara and if _Damien_ didn't incur her wrath, then the warlock she was looking after certainly would.

It was with that thought that Damien spoke the spell to close the scrying window. The silver platter was quickly tucked back into his jacket and he simply enjoyed the brightening light of the morning sun. He sat listening to the sounds all around him; sounds that told all those that would listen that the day was dawning and the forest would soon be full of life again. He would don his disguise shortly, but for now he wanted to enjoy his last vestiges of freedom in his own form.

The soft trample of boots not an hour later alerted Damien to the presence of the two Knights a second before Gwaine and Leon came into view of where Damien was now crouched. He looked up in alarm, but smiled at the sight of them, glad he'd had the foresight to disguise himself not too long ago. The pair merely found their friend, Merlin, looking slightly dishevelled and shifty as he crouched in the dirt.

"Come on, Merlin, what are you doing out here? We're almost ready to break camp," Leon sighed, finding himself only slightly suspicious of what Damien, or rather Merlin, had been doing. He was relieved to have found the man, however. Whenever Merlin disappeared, a tension formed between his friends and even Arthur became worried, so of course when they woke late to find Merlin gone, Arthur had immediately ordered them to pack up while two were sent to track down the idiot servant.

Damien held up the sword and the attached belt (which he had broken so as to give him an excuse for appearing to have lost it in the first place), grinning that dopy, lop-sided grin that Merlin favoured so much. "I was getting Arthur's sword. The belt must have broken when I fell on the way back," he explained.

Gwaine chuckled and shook his head, holding out the hand of his good arm to help Damien to his feet. "Only you, Merlin," he grinned, clapping Damien on the back and leaving his arm around the man's shoulders for a few moments longer than Damien thought was necessary.

"You look better, Gwaine, how's your shoulder?" Damien asked, concern lacing his voice now as he slipped out of Gwaine's grasp and turning towards him properly to inspect the wounded man's shoulder.

"It's fine, it doesn't hurt as much anymore," Gwaine gave him a disarming smile and brushed him off, indicating with a jerk of his head that they should get back to the camp already.

Damien gave him a disbelieving look but dropped the subject. He would redress the wound before they left. He was surprised that Arthur had even let Gwaine come and find him, though he supposed he wasn't much good for anything else and would only have driven the rest of the mad with his endless chatter whilst getting in the way of everyone trying to pack up the camp. He was actually much like Merlin in that respect. Neither man was your typical knight or servant, but they were both good at their jobs (in their own ways) and both were often infuriatingly happy for no apparent reason.

With Leon bringing up the rear, the trio made their way back to the others. Arthur was a little distraught that the belt had been broken (_"But I've only had that belt a month! How could it have become so worn already?"_) but accepted the lie without any further objections. They'd also agreed that Gwaine should let Damien redress the wound before they left, none noticing that he was more hesitant and haphazard than he should have been.

Only once they were all saddled up and on their way again did Damien let the goofy smile fall, his shoulders slumping just a fraction. He'd made sure that they weren't paying much attention to him, and he _was_ making the odd jibe towards Arthur and Gwaine, and even Percival at once point, but the smile didn't reappear unless he caught Arthur watching him. How Merlin maintained that smile, Damien would never understand. His face already ached from being so outwardly happy and at one point Elyan had remarked on how well-balanced and therefore how un-Merlin-like he had been whilst packing up, causing Damien to purposefully trip and make a fool of himself.

He wasn't sure how long he could put up with their taunts and the demeaning way he was being forced to put aside his pride. Tamara had better hurry up, otherwise he may just go ahead with Plan B and give himself away just to shut these arrogant men up.

~#~~#~

Merlin stayed down for now. He was winded and his shoulders and the back of his head hurt where they had hit the roof of the cave before the rest of his body, taking the brunt of the impact. Falling hadn't been much fun, either, but it had only served to further drive the breath from his lungs and possibly worsen any concussion he might have. The warlock mildly wondered if there was any permanent damage. Everything was certainly spinning fast enough, his head pounding ruthlessly as the pressure built somewhere behind his eyes.

He groaned and screwed his eyes shut tight, hoping that that would stop the spinning. He tentatively reached up to grope at the back of his head, wincing at the contact. Luckily, his hand was clear of blood when he pulled it back down in front of his face and inspected his fingers closely. He repeated the action with his forehead, and this time there was a small amount of blood where a rock had caught him, but the wound was small and shallow and he couldn't find it in himself to worry over it.

"What do you want?" he asked as he lifted his torso off the ground, hanging his head slightly. The spinning had mostly stopped, but his headache became even worse. His arms were shaking beneath him and the nausea that lifting his head had caused was making him regret moving just yet.

"It's not so much a question of what I want, but what you are going to want, Myrddin," the woman told him. Her voice was melodic but sharp and brokered no argument.

Merlin's head came up sharply, but he winced and dropped his head forward again. Slowly at first, he shuffled around until he was kneeling, holding his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes and temples to ease the growing headache. Carefully straightening his back, Merlin rolled his shoulders, glad to find that although they hurt, nothing was too badly damaged.

Happy that he wasn't suffering any long-lasting injuries, Merlin raised his head to look at his kidnapper. (If it really _was_ this woman that had taken him from his friends, and not someone else that was after his powers or wanting to use him as bait for Arthur). A fact that wasn't going to be dismissed lightly now that he knew she had magic. And strong magic it must be, for her to propel him through the air with no incantation, only the intent of her will.

"Myrddin?"

What Merlin had meant to ask was _"Who are you?"_ but that would work too. As long as he got some answers to his questions.

The woman smirked and looked over the man sat before her. "Myrddin Emrys. That is your name, right? Merlin, son of Balinor, the last Dragon Lord and Warlock of prophesy, servant to The Once and Future King. That _is_ you, is it not?"

Staring at her for almost a full minute, Merlin tried not to let his jaw drop in shock. This woman knew his name, knew that he was Emrys and that he was a Dragon Lord. She even knew of his father!

Surprisingly, it was the new name she was calling him that disturbed him most. He found himself contemplating the nine years in which Merlin had spent in Arthur's service. They had been hard to the prince, forcing him into situations that made him question his beliefs. The last two years were notable in that Arthur had come to a turning point in his relationship with magic. They may have been two long, quiet years, but they were far from uneventful, besides.

Arthur had never held his father's views on magic as viciously as Uther had, and despite all the times magic had failed him, had betrayed him and taken his family from him, the King had soon realised that despite his grief, he couldn't ignore the good he knew magic had done in his life time.

He'd spoken to Merlin about his beliefs once, a lengthy conversation that had come about due to Arthur's curiosity over what Merlin's beliefs of magic had been before he came to Camelot. According to his friend, the thought had just somehow popped into his head, random and without prompt, but Merlin had seen the way Arthur had been distracted since they had retaken the realm from Morgana. So he'd obliged and told Arthur, in a round-a-bout way, of his beliefs and those of the people living in Ealdor. In return, Arthur had confessed of the things that had been troubling him.

"_Is all magic really evil, Merlin?" Arthur had asked. "It pains me to even think that my father was wrong in such a manner, but I can't just deny the things I've seen. Nothing has ever been that black and white, so why would magic be the exception?"_

He had confessed that the first good thing he'd ever witnessed where magic was concerned was the blue orb of light that had protected and guided him on his quest to find the mortaeus flower so Gaius could cure Merlin. He'd been sure that someone, somewhere had been looking out for him, for there had not been even the slightest doubt in his mind of that light being there for his benefit, or rather, for Merlin's benefit. Either way, it had saved him and while in its presence, Arthur had actually felt safe.

Then there had been the druids and the old man, Dragoon. The druids had only ever been peaceful people, and Arthur had promised to allow them to live within Camelot's borders, so long as they did not practise their magic where anyone could see and did not bring harm to any of his citizens. Of course, he hadn't pronounced this to Camelot as a whole, but had met in secret with the one druid leader he knew and partially trusted, seeing as Iseldir had allowed him to take the Cup of Life without argument. Not to mention the way they had saved Leon's life from the brink of death.

Dragoon was a complicated matter, however, and one that did not bear much thought. Arthur was confused by the man and didn't know whether to trust his instincts and believe that he had, in fact, intended to heal Uther, or believe his eyes and condemn the sarcastic sorcerer for taking his father's life. What had troubled Arthur the most about the old man was the way his gut twisted anxiously whenever they met. He was positive that they had met before, outside of the few encounters around the castle, but Arthur couldn't remember where and Dragoon had made it clear he wasn't going to offer up any solutions to that predicament.

"That is me," Merlin nodded haltingly. "But I have never been called Myrddin before."

"Oh? Maybe it was just my mistake, then. The druids prophecies have apparently become a little skewed among the people," the woman smiled pleasantly. Except Merlin didn't believe her. There was something going on in her mind and he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to know. The young warlock had a feeling that those eyes of hers were seeing things in an entirely different light to him, making connections that he didn't even knew could exist.

"Yes, well..." he trailed off and looked about himself for the first time. A bowl of water sat on the far side of the cave, a little behind the woman and to Merlin's left. Two packs were leant against the wall beside the bowl, sat on top of two folded travelling cloaks, but other than those few things, the cave was deserted. There wasn't even the remains of a camp fire. "So who are you?" he finally asked.

The woman looked relieved, as though she'd thought he'd never ask. Then she curtsied and bowed her head a little in respect. "My name is Tamara," she replied, standing straight before carrying on. "But you may know me as the Queen of Tam's Kingdom, Dauth."

**Word count: 3,897**

**A/N:**

**Just in case people are confused, Were-light's are those lights that seem to hover and have no origin. E.G. the blue and white orb that helped Arthur could be called a were-light.**

**This was never supposed to be more than a week late, but as painful as it had been to write the first time around, my computer decided that it didn't like me writing instead of studying and deleted all of my files for fanfiction DOT net, meaning I had to rewrite this. Not to mention real life has been a kick in the teeth the past couple of months.**

**I don't particularly like this chapter and the next two will take another couple of weeks because I've scrapped my original plans, but I hope you like it and please review. I've finally come to understand why people practically beg for reviews – you only need to write a few words but they really make my day and actually make me want to write faster.**

**A question though, for all of those that would take a few second to click the big blue button:**

**Do you, A, want this to be a bit shorter than I'd planned and have Damien discovered pretty early on. Or B, shall I just carry on writing and let everything unfold and leave the knights in the dark about Damien for now ? It's up to you, but thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it! Thank you once again to my wonderful Beta, TheImpossiblePen! It's thanks to her you haven't had to wait another month for this :)**

**AWA x**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm not even gonna try and apologise for this being so late. I think we all know by now that my uploading is sporadic at best. My muse hates me and sulks in a corner when I try and force myself to write. I'm getting ready to go to uni in the next twenty days, though, so I probably won't upload before I'm typing from my desk in my studyroom XD**

**This chapter gave me a lot of trouble, though, as there's a lot of filler here . Many thanks to my Beta, TheImpossiblePen, for being so patient and encouraging me to carry on the plot as it is. And thank you all who are reading, reviewing, favourite and alerting.**

**AWA xx**

* * *

Chapter 7

"My name is Tamara," she replied, standing straight before carrying on. "But you may know me as the Queen of Tam's Kingdom, Dauth."

Merlin's mouth fell open.

"You're-" he paused to swallow the shake in his voice and tried again. "You're the Queen of Tam's kingdom?" he questioned, hoping she was just pulling his leg. But no. Tamara. Tam. It made sense. Plus, it would explain the haughty tone her voice had taken on earlier when she thought he was going to walk out on her – as though no one had ever turned their back on her like that before. Her clothes, as well, should have at least alerted him to the fact she was nobility of some kind. They were too well made for simple travelling clothes, and as he looked at her more carefully, he saw that her necklace was made of gold, silver and semi-precious gems. What he thought to be the sleeves of her dress were in fact fingerless gloves of intricate lace and silk ribbon.

"Yes, that's what I just said," Tamara replied patiently, obviously amused by Merlin's reaction.

Merlin pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips, his first defence being offence. "Well, excuse me for not trusting that a Queen would come out here, into the middle of a forest in another kingdom, just to kidnap someone and ask a favour of them. I thought that was what counsellors and treaties and messengers were all for. You know, making friends with other kingdoms so you can use their resources and ask for help when you need it, without having to go through the whole process of _kidnapping _someone!" His voice had risen slightly towards the end, making his frustration towards the situation more than just a little obvious.

Tamara sighed. "You're not going to let that go, are you?" she asked rhetorically. "I am sorry about the kidnapping, but your friends are safe, as is your King. In fact, I dare say he is safer here than he is at home. All those scheming bastards he keeps around, blind as to their true loyalties..."

The young warlock facing her nodding slowly in agreement. Then he blinked rapidly and looked up at her sharply.

"What scheming bastards? What do you know? Who _the hell_ is planning against Arthur now?" he demanded. The worry and fear grew within him, but other than his narrowed eyes none of it showed in Merlin's expression.

"It's nothing for you to worry over, Merlin," Tamara assured him. "Arthur is with Damien now. He won't let any harm come to your King. After all, once this matter has been settled I have been hoping to meet Arthur formally, myself."

Merlin stared at his new companion for a few seconds, until his eyes slid closed and he took a of steadying breathe. Tamara simply watched him with compassionate eyes, partly amused and partly exasperated that they hadn't yet moved on. But they still had plenty of time, she reasoned, and stayed her tongue to allow Emrys enough time to gather his thoughts and accept the situation.

Thankfully the young man was never one to disappoint. "So let me get this straight. You want my help for something and to do that you couldn't go through Arthur or any formal means, so you made up a story about the Holy Grail being found and made sure it got to Arthur in the knowledge he would go on a quest after it, himself? And then you kidnapped me and put this Damien guy - who's disguised with magic - in my place so none of the knights would know I'm gone. Is that everything, or would you like to explain what you need my help for?" Merlin said diffidently, gesticulating frantically as he started to pace back and forth across the cave.

"No. That is all for now. I'll explain why I need your help later on, when I will be able to show you what has happened. For now, we should be going. If we leave now we can make camp for the night in Dauth and be at our destination by tomorrow morning." The young Queen took in Merlin's tense shoulders and the muscle jumping in his jaw and added, "or we can push on through the night and be there before midnight."

Spurred on by the prospect of getting this task done quickly, Merlin paused in his pacing and twirled round to face her. His jacket flew out behind him as he did so, reminding Tamara of a bird in flight.

Merlin nodded firmly. "Yes, lets. I'd like to get this over with as quickly as possible. So long as Arthur doesn't realise I'm gone, I don't see much harm in helping you," he reasoned.

~#~~#~

Sunlight filtered down through the grey clouds and the canopy of leaves overhead as Arthur signalled for everyone to stop and dismount their horses. The party was at the edge of the forest now, not a mile from the border to Tam's kingdom.

"Remove your armour and anything with the Pendragon crest," Arthur commanded, turning to his knights. "Don your travelling cloaks and change your shirts if you need to. Merlin, come help me out of my armour, would you? Then feed and water the horses. We may as well take a short break before crossing the border."

Damien looked over at the King from where he'd been talking softly to his mount. Animals were not as easily fooled by the magic he was using to disguise himself and while she hadn't yet given him away, the mare was twitchy and on edge. She knew Damien wasn't her master (the sorcerer wondered if Merlin was her only master, judging by the mare's reaction to Damien handling her) and the boy was doing all he could to keep her calm and get her to like him, even just a fraction as much as she liked Merlin.

"Yes, Sire," the servant nodded his head and strode over to Arthur. Thankfully armour was something he knew how to deal with and his fingers moved deftly over the ties and buckles until Arthur stood in his chain mail. Divesting his 'master' of the heavy links of steel, Damien left the armour for Arthur to pack away in his saddle bags; extra, empty bags had been brought to accommodate hiding their armour, seeing as they had rode rather lightly until now and the armour they were wearing would make the bags bulky unless hidden carefully. He stepped off to feed the horses as ordered, tuning out the banter between the knights.

Arthur watched the man he thought to be his manservant for a few moments, noting how he frowned instead of smiling idiotically and how his brow was just slightly creased. It could have been that the younger man was simply concentrating on the task at hand, but somehow Arthur doubted it. Merlin had been helping Arthur into and out of his armour, and feeding the horses, for almost a decade. There was no way he would be concentrating on it hard enough to make him frown. _Some_ _thing's on his mind,_ Arthur concluded with a concerned frown of his own. He rolled his eyes as he considered just how that would have sounded had he spoken his thoughts aloud. He could never keep his concern for his friends from his voice and when it proved to be needless he was teased and ribbed about it until even the knights grew bored of the subject. Still, he would get the idiot to cough up about it later if he had to. He was King, after all. Merlin had to tell him if he ordered him to.

Laughter drew his attention from his friend even as concern coiled even tighter in his stomach.

The knights had taken it upon themselves to try and lighten the ever darkening atmosphere, the one that had fallen over them since Merlin had told them of the Holy Grail on the first evening. Arthur didn't know what, exactly, had just happened, but the results were amusing enough to allow him to push his manservant's distraction from his mind.

Elyan was currently sprawled out on his back on the road as the others stood laughing around him. They were packing their armour away, dressed in travelling clothes with worn leather jackets that would act as thin armour for now. Leon was already wearing his cloak; Percival had his own draped over one arm.

Gwaine held his hand out for Elyan as Leon said something Arthur couldn't hear. Percival laughed and Gwaine looked up at Leon to respond, his grin widening to ridiculous proportions.

In a movement too quick for the long-haired knight to react to, Elyan grabbed Gwaine's wrist and yanked him down. The action threw him off balance and caused Gwaine to yell out in surprise. The knight landed sprawled face-down on the dusty road. Elyan was on him in an instant, mindful of his friend's injured shoulder as he held him down and rubbed the knuckles of one hand fiercely against Gwaine's skull. Elyan, Percival and Leon laughed harder. Gwaine swore vehemently and he tried to wriggle out from his friend's hold with no such luck. He was even loud enough to take Damien's attention away from the horse he was murmuring quiet nonsense to.

"Fools," Damien muttered darkly, turning back to Arthur's horse and stroking her mane tenderly.

The word had been quiet and obviously not intended for the ears of another, but Arthur was still close to him and heard it clearly. His chest felt unusually tight and the King paused in sorting his saddle bags out. Arthur thought about how Merlin had been acting strange all morning – heck, he'd been acting weird since the previous evening! But Arthur couldn't for the life of him fathom why.

It was with great reluctance that Arthur went back to his saddle bags, watching Damien out of the corner of his eye. The boy was doing exactly as he'd been told, almost working without thinking about what he was doing as he fed and watered the horses in turn.

"Merlin, mate," Gwaine greeted as he approached Damien a few minutes later. The brunette received a rather dark look for interrupting the imposter, but Damien said nothing to dissuade Gwaine from saying more. "You all right? You've been acting a bit off since yesterday."

Damien tensed, wondering just how _off_ he had been acting. He'd bantered with Arthur, joked and sang with Gwaine and made a few teasing comments towards Percival when the opportunity to do so arose. He had even smiled so much his jaw ached.

Shaking his head, he looked up and gave Gwaine a disarming, lopsided grin. "I'm fine. Just a bit tense, you know?" he tried, going back to feeding the horse before him.

Gwaine sighed and patted the horses' flank, stroking gently as he nodded. "Yeah, I hear you," he said empathetically, before smiling brightly. He filled his smile with such enthusiasm and optimism that even Damien felt himself smiling slightly as the sight of it. "But we always manage to come out intact in the end, don't we? We've been on far worse quests than scouring a whole kingdom for something like this Grail, right?" Gwaine nudged Damien's shoulder good-naturedly, and Damien took the cue to laugh lightly.

"Yeah, right," he said. Outwardly, he was agreeing with the uncouth knight, but inwardly, Damien was laughing at his idiocy. This lot really were all brawn and no brains. _That must have been why they kept Merlin around,_ he thought wryly.

Clapping Damien on the shoulder as he moved away, Gwaine was completely unaware of the taunting thoughts running through the younger man's mind. He was just happy that said man seemed to have cheered up a little again and that he now understood 'Merlin's earlier behaviour.

~#~

"Reminds me of the border between Essetir and Camelot," Gwaine remarked. He looked over at Arthur and Damien and smiled widely, thinking they would understand that he was referring to their quest into the Perilous Lands.

"It does, a little," Arthur smiled at him, then faced forwards to take in more of the view of what lay before them.

Damien glanced at him, wearing a funny expression mirrored in the faces of the other knights – an expression that spoke of not understanding what must have been an inside joke. Damien shrugged, staring out at the landscape with a small smile now. "I guess," he said, figuring that Merlin would have known what Gwaine was on about and therefore it would be odd for him not to reply in affirmation at least in _some_ way.

They all sat in their saddles, the horses stood side by side in the middle of a field. Tall, untamed grass surrounded the group, yellowed by the sun and lack of rain and dotted by wild flowers of a variety of colours; white, blue, lilac, red, yellow, orange... It was truly a stunning sight to behold.

Behind them the forest stretched out on either side, disappearing somewhere on the right and giving way to fields and farms. On their left the forest reappeared a league or two from their current position and curling around until it came back up in front of them again, spread out at the bottom of the decline until it tapered off to give way to a sprawling citadel at least twice the size of Camelot.

Details of the citadel were hard to make out from their current position, but they could see the tall wall around the outer-most reaches of the town. Three large sets of gates set into the wall at the North, East and Southern cardinal points, marked by the dual look-out posts on either side of each gate. Three slimmer, smaller walls intersected parts of the city, making it look like there were different tiers. The west tier, the 'highest' tier, was taken up by the castle.

Leon found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the magnificent sight laid out below. "I take it that's where the royal family lives," he said haltingly. His eyes were narrowed as he ran a scrutinising eye over the city, searching out the defences and any observable weak points. He was, after all, a knight of Camelot through-and-through. Any kingdom could be an enemy at any point of time in the future. Treaties could be broken almost as quickly as they were created. It was better to get to know a city's weaknesses _before_ any situation occurred where they would be in need of such knowledge. It gave them an advantage, should a war be declared and they decided to march on the enemy's stronghold.

Percival cast his gaze over the land to the east and west, making out a couple of villages a few miles from the citadel and spying a river that ran from the north-east toward the citadel, where it dwindled and disappeared before it reached the city.

"It would probably be best to go to the city first, get provisions and see what the local gossip says about the situation," Percival suggested thoughtfully.

Arthur and Damien both nodded their heads without looking away from the grey walls of Dauth. It was Damien that spoke first, unwittingly slipping into a tone that mirrored Merlin's own voice on occasion.

"It's where the Grail would have been kept, so any guards present when it was found to be gone would no doubt have gossiped to other guards and their families. Even if word hasn't gotten far from the city, most within its walls will know something of what happened," he said.

Arthur couldn't help but smirk to himself. As far as he knew, Merlin has just had one of his wise moments again, a distant look in his servant's eye that told of some kind of plan being formed. He was definitely going to corner the sly idiot later on.

"Well, we're just acting like normal travellers right?" Gwaine started, looking around at his friends. As soon as they stepped across the border, they would be knights, servant and King no longer, shedding their titles and status' as they entered unknown territory. Without waiting for some kind of response, Gwaine said jovially, "Well then, have some enthusiasm, people!" With that he spurred his horse on, quickly gaining in speed as it raced down the hill. He shouted back to those staring after him. "Race ya!"

"Gwaine!" Arthur shouted in exasperation. Damien's horse kicked up dirt as it suddenly thundered past him, as well. "Merlin!" the King shouted louder, his frustration growing as he was left behind in the dust.

Leon sighed and dropped his head into his palm. Elyan and Percival grinned at each other. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em," the former laughed, taking off after the pair already disappearing into the trees near the bottom of the hill, Percival hot on his heels.

Arthur groaned. "Why are my knights such _children_?" he moaned to himself.

Leon chuckled. "Well, Arthur, Elyan was right at least."

That earned him a confused look from his King, until comprehension dawned on the blond and Arthur smiled indulgently, spurring his own mare into a gentle canter. "Come on, then. Can't let them get themselves lost or, gods forbid, one of them _beat _us there." Sure that Leon was right beside him, Arthur cast aside the unease created by this new kingdom and nudged his horse into a steady gallop.

**Word count: 2,944**


End file.
